


And the Walls Came Tumbling Down

by sistersophie



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Angst and Porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 12:05:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17324675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sistersophie/pseuds/sistersophie
Summary: James is full of feelings and isn't sure how to deal with them.





	And the Walls Came Tumbling Down

**Author's Note:**

> Let's assume the "Fracas" didn't happen in this universe.

James leaned against the headboard and hugged his knees, staring into the darkness, listening to the rain patter against his house. 

Ordinarily, the sound would have lulled him to sleep hours ago, but this evening had taken an unexpected turn. James had planned to watch television, maybe do a little writing, and get to bed early.

Then Jeremy had shown up. And he still hadn’t left. In fact, he was sleeping right next to James, his soft snores audible even over the sound of the rain.

 _Why?_ James asked himself for the hundredth time this evening. _Why now, after all these years?_

He should be happy. This was what he had wanted for such a long time. But the inevitable self-doubts were creeping into his head and keeping him awake.

A cool breeze flew in through the half-open bedroom window, caressing James’s bare shoulders and chest. There was simply no way he was going to sleep right now.

James turned back the bedclothes, slowly swung his legs to the side, and got out of bed. Jeremy slept on, unbothered. James crept to the bedroom door, where his dressing gown hung on a hook. He put it on, tying the belt securely around his middle, and even managed to get his slippers over his feet without making too much noise.

He left the bedroom door slightly ajar and padded down his short hallway, noticing light streaming from his sitting room. He hadn’t turned out the lamps. Neither had he cleaned up his dinner dishes, nor the leftovers from Jeremy’s arrival.

Well, of course not. Both he had Jeremy had become…distracted.

And at least this gave him something to do. He turned off one lamp, picked up two wine glasses and one empty bottle, and took them into the kitchen. Then he returned for the mostly-empty bowl of crisps and the plate Jeremy had been using.

In the kitchen, he dumped the crisp crumbs into the rubbish, washed the wine glasses, the bowl, and the crisp plate by hand and put them away, and then rinsed out the bottle and put it in the recycling bin. He frowned at the hardened mess on his dinner plate and utensils; usually he rinsed everything immediately and got it into the dishwasher, but so much time had passed, he wasn’t sure the machine would get these properly clean. He hand-washed them and put them into his dishrack to dry.

James swiped his countertop with a damp cloth, and then put his kettle on. A cup of tea might help him relax.

While he waited for the water to boil, he went back out into the sitting room, wiped off his coffee table, and straightened the sofa cushions. Jeremy’s shoes were underneath the coffee table; he had kicked them off at some point during their conversation. James picked them up and put them near the front door, out of harm’s way.

The rest of Jeremy’s clothing was on the bedroom floor.

The kettle began to hiss, and James made his tea with his usual care, starting to feel a bit more at ease now that at least the physical mess from the evening had been dealt with.

He sat at his breakfast table, the hot mug in front of him, and thought about what had just happened.

****

He’d been in love with Jeremy for years, but he’d never seriously thought about acting on it. The man was married, after all, and James was nothing if not proper about these sorts of things. He could be Jeremy’s colleague, his friend – maybe even one of his best friends, along with Richard, Andy, and Adrian – and that was still a great gift. 

He treasured every chance to make a film with Jeremy alone. Sometimes when watching these on Dave re-runs, James cringed at the hero worship that was apparently obvious only to him, but everyone else simply chalked up to close friendship and nothing more.

He enjoyed his work with Richard as well, and even loved the younger man after a fashion; their mutual interest in motorbikes was always a source of great pleasure to him, and Hammond was a steadfast friend and a real trooper in everything he did. But Jeremy was something else, and no one else, man or woman, could compare with him in James’s estimation.

Once he’d realised what was going on, he tried to distract himself by dating other people, but these experiences went nowhere quickly. Eventually, James decided that the bachelor’s life was his for the duration, and he threw his energy into _Top Gear_ and other television projects, reserving his socialising to pints and darts with his mates on the weekends.

It didn’t work, of course; every Monday he would walk into the studio and see Jeremy, and it would all start again. That smile, that booming voice, those twinkling blue eyes and strong handshake – James would imagine those long fingers roaming all over his body, and it took everything he could muster to stay in control.

So it went – week after week, month after month, until Jeremy suddenly announced one day that he was getting a divorce. “I don’t want any fuss,” he told James, Richard, and Andy in a private meeting. “It’s all being handled properly. Shouldn’t affect the show at all.” And they had all made expressions of sympathy and agreed to let the process work itself out.

It was shortly after that, though, that Jeremy began to drop in on James, on an occasional Friday evening. He would always ring first, and he always brought a bottle of wine and some nibbles, and the two men would spend a couple of hours talking about cars, Top Gear, British politics – but not the divorce. Jeremy never mentioned it, and James was too polite (or scared) to bring it up. Jeremy would always leave well before midnight, and James would be left feeling both pleased and exhausted afterwards.

As the day of the final settlement had drawn nearer, Jeremy withdrew into himself, spending more time than usual in his cubicle, either writing or doing research on the Internet. James had said nothing, wanting to respect Jeremy’s original wishes, but also wishing he could offer some sort of comfort. The Friday visits had also stopped, which was both a relief and a regret.

James tried to occupy his free time with reading, tinkering, and practising his music. Being an introvert by nature, this was easier for him than it would have been for more social types, but as the days went by, he found himself missing Jeremy’s feet on his coffee table and the occasional hand towel left out of place in his bathroom.

He couldn’t understand why his feelings just wouldn’t give up on Jeremy after so much time had passed, but there simply wasn’t anyone else who made him happy in this way or caused him so much precious aching in their absence.

The date of the divorce settlement finally arrived. It was a slow Friday in the office, so Andy, James, and Richard mostly sat around looking at old car films, drinking tea, and eating sandwiches and pastries. A little after three o’clock, a text popped up on each of their phones: 

_It’s done. I’m going home. See you next week._

They all looked at each other. “I hope he’s okay,” said Richard. “D’you think we should do anything for him?”

“Just let him be,” said Andy, who’d known Jeremy the longest. “I already told him that if he needs a few days off, we’ll switch the filming schedule around a bit.”

“I’ll do whatever you need,” James said.

“Thanks, mate,” said Andy. “I may need you to step in on that BMW review.”

“Not a problem.”

“Good.” Andy stood up and stretched. “I still have a few phone calls to make, but you two can go. I’ll see you on Monday.”

****

James had spent that evening with his mates at the pub, where he did manage to distract himself from Jeremy for a few hours. He checked his phone periodically to see if there was any further communication from Jeremy, but nothing appeared.

What should he do? Andy had said to leave Jeremy alone, but James didn’t think he could do that. More accurately, he didn’t _want_ to do that.

Finally, just before going to bed, he wrote a quick text: 

_I’m here if you need me._

He hit “send” before he could think twice about it. He set the phone on his nightstand, got into bed, and waited. There was no immediate response. Eventually James rolled over and went to sleep.

****

When he woke in the morning, there was still no return message from Jeremy. James felt a little anxious about this, but then decided that Jeremy might have turned his phone off to have some privacy. Or maybe he had been put off by James’s message. But why would that be? No, he hadn’t been too forward. It was something any good mate might have said to another in this kind of situation. The man’s marriage had just ended, and he was probably hurting. Wouldn’t he want to be with people who cared about him?

 _Let it go,_ James’s rational mind told him as he took a shower. _You did what you could, within reason._

So, he spent much of the day cleaning his house, doing his laundry, and tending his garden. After another shower, he read several chapters of a mystery novel, made himself dinner, and was just about to turn on the television when his doorbell rang.

It was Jeremy.

****

He seemed agitated. “I hope I’m not barging in on anything.”

“Not at all.”

“You’re just about to eat dinner, aren’t you? I can smell it.”

“I can fix an extra plate if you’d like. It’s really no bother.”

Jeremy waved this away. “I’m not really hungry for much except crisps right now.” He tapped the paper sack he was carrying. “And wine. Would you like a glass with your meal?”

“I would. Thank you.”

James retrieved a small plate and two wine glasses from his kitchen. Jeremy uncorked the bottle and poured out the wine, and then dumped some of the crisps onto the plate.

“Thought I might tune in Attenborough’s latest,” said James after they had taken their usual places on the sofa.

“By all means,” said Jeremy.

They ate and started to watch the programme, but James could tell that Jeremy wasn’t really focusing. He kept crossing and uncrossing his legs, fidgeting with his phone, and periodically glancing over at James.

Finally, James could take it no more. He shut off the television and placed the remote control on the coffee table. Summoning his courage, he declared, “I know you didn’t come over here to watch penguins and elephants with me. What’s really going on?”

“I just got a divorce.”

“I’m sorry, Jezza.”

Jeremy folded his hands together and stared down at them. “I’ve failed at two marriages now. And this time I’ve failed my kids as well.”

“You haven’t failed them. You’re a good dad.”

Jeremy shrugged. “I’m a part-time dad at best.”

“That’s not true,” James protested. “You’ve gone to the recitals and the football games and the honours ceremonies and every important event that you could.”

“It’s not that. Those were the big things. The little things – the scraped knees, taking them to school, helping them with their homework – I missed so much of that.” Jeremy took a shuddering breath. “I will never get those opportunities back.”

James didn’t know quite what to say to that. He wondered how Richard (a busy but apparently satisfied father) would have handled this conversation. But he also suspected that Jeremy was covering for the real issue – the fact that Jeremy and Francie no longer wanted to be together.

As if reading his mind, Jeremy exhaled loudly and shook his head. “Who am I trying to kid? It’s really about me and my wife, isn’t it? Wait – she’s my ex-wife now. Right.”

James remained silent. Not only was he completely inexperienced in these kinds of things, he also knew he wasn’t an objective observer, by any means.

Jeremy took another swallow of wine and continued. “Yesterday we signed some papers to make it official. But it’s really been over for years, hasn’t it? We kept it together for the kids, but now that they’re all grown, what’s the point of pretending anymore?”

James tried to think of some way to contradict what Jeremy was saying, or at least find something comforting to say, but he was tongue-tied.

Jeremy suddenly got to his feet. “I’m sorry, James. I shouldn’t be dumping all my personal rubbish on you. I should leave.”

James felt a sudden rush of protectiveness, and finally found his voice. “No.”

“No?”

James stood up and faced his friend directly. “Don’t go.”

“What do you mean? I’m not drunk, May.”

James swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to go.”

Jeremy stared at him. “James…?”

“I don’t want you to go,” James repeated, holding Jeremy’s gaze, his heart pounding in his chest, his palms cool and damp with perspiration. _What am I doing?_

Seconds passed. It was so quiet that James could hear the refrigerator running in his kitchen. He kept his eyes on Jeremy’s, and slowly Jeremy’s puzzled frown relaxed into something softer.

“James.”

“Stay here. At least for a while…” but James was cut off by Jeremy seizing his face between two big hands and kissing his mouth. 

James’s first impulse was to push the other man away, _this is crazy_ , but then he found himself giving in, kissing back with an urgency that surprised him. He put his hands on Jeremy’s shoulders and drew him closer. Jeremy’s mouth was soft and tasted of salt and wine. 

Finally, they broke apart, each man breathing hard. Jeremy ran a quick hand over his forehead. “It’s been a long time since I kissed a bloke.”

“Well, I’m not just any bloke,” James retorted, still feeling that burst of whatever strange courage was motivating him at the moment.

Jeremy stared at him, then reached a hand up and stroked James’s hair. “No,” he whispered, leaning in again. “You certainly are not.”

This time James was ready, and he threw most of his long-suppressed passion into the next kiss, opening his mouth and inviting Jeremy’s tongue to taste and explore. Jeremy moaned as James tugged at his shirt and reached underneath to caress the smooth skin of his back. It was a sound that went straight to James’s heart, and to his cock as well.

Jeremy started to turn James toward the sofa, but James freed his mouth enough to say, “Bedroom, Jezza.”

“Of course,” was the soft reply, and James found himself taking Jeremy’s wrist and leading the way down the hall into his bedroom. In the dim evening light, they quickly shed their clothes, dropping shirts, trousers, and pants onto the floor. James turned down his bed and drew Jeremy under the covers, kissing his mouth, and then his neck, his hand reaching down until he found Jeremy’s right buttock and squeezed. 

Jeremy gasped, clutching at James’s back, his hardening erection becoming all too obvious. James pulled him closer until their cocks brushed against each other. 

“Yesss,” Jeremy hissed as he reached a big hand down to encircle them both, giving a series of strokes that sent currents of excitement through James’s entire body. “Beautiful. Come for me, James, let’s come together, oh, fuck, yessss….” and he went on that way, encouraging James with his hand and with his voice, until finally James threw back his head and cried out, and there was sticky warmth on his belly and on Jeremy’s hand, and for a few seconds he had no idea where he began and where Jeremy ended.

Jeremy held him, breathing hard into the curve between James’s neck and his shoulder, and eventually James relaxed, breaking Jeremy’s grip and rolling onto his back, a sudden feeling of unreality spreading through his mind. Jeremy remained on his side, breathing quietly and evenly.

“We need to clean ourselves up,” James said, and Jeremy made the smallest of concurring sounds in the back of his throat. James got up, stepped into his bathroom, and ran warm water over one corner of a washcloth. He wiped and dried himself off, then went back into the bedroom and handed the cloth to Jeremy, who ran it perfunctorily over his hands and thighs before giving it back to James. By the time James had rinsed out the cloth and gotten back into bed, Jeremy seemed on the verge of falling asleep.

“You all right, Jezza?” he asked.

“Fine. ‘M not going anywhere,” was the mumbled reply, and within a minute or so, Jeremy’s eyes were fully closed, and his breathing had become deep and even.

James rolled over onto his back. He was keyed up now, somewhat in shock at what had just occurred.

Outside, it had gotten cooler, and rain had begun to fall.

****

James sipped his tea, idly wondering if he should have a biscuit or two with it. After all, he hadn’t had time for dessert earlier on.

_Oh, God, this was a mistake. I should have let him leave. This is such a mess._

Jeremy’s touch, though. His kisses. The sounds he made in the heat of passion. His surprising gentleness. All of this had met or surpassed James’s wildest expectations. There could be more. Possibly.

_This was rebound sex, you numpty. It’s all because of the divorce._

_Shut up. Eat something and stop plaguing me._

James was about to stand up and retrieve the biscuit tin when he heard footsteps. Jeremy appeared, dressed in his trousers, his curly hair a mess, his eyes blurry with sleep. “There you are. Are you okay?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Should I take the sofa, then?”

“No. God, no. You’ll ruin your back.” Jeremy smiled at that, and James felt a little better. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please, if it’s no bother.” 

James stood up and waved invitingly at the empty chair across from him. Jeremy sat down heavily and watched as James made a second cup of tea and brought down the biscuit tin.

“Thank you,” Jeremy said when he had been served. James nodded, took a biscuit for himself, and resumed his seat.

They ate and drank quietly for a few minutes. Finally, Jeremy said, “I have no regrets, James. About what just happened. None at all.”

“Okay.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know. I guess….” James swallowed. “I guess…I don’t want to be someone you pick up on the rebound.”

Jeremy nodded. “I understand. I’ll be honest – it’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone except a porno and my right hand. And I didn’t think I was misreading you or taking advantage.”

James flushed and looked at the table, but managed to say, “You weren’t.”

Jeremy put a hand on his wrist. “We can stop right here if you like. Or we can move forward and just see what happens.”

“Okay.”

“But either way, I’m not leaving tonight.”

James made himself look up. 

Jeremy was smiling. “I made a promise.”


End file.
